


Kiss with a Fist

by LeTempest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Power Play, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeTempest/pseuds/LeTempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s kiss is like a kick in the teeth. Hard, punishing, bordering on animal. And Stiles hates it and loves it at the same time. He hates it because kissing this asshole should not feel this good; he loves it because Derek is trying to conquer him, trying to scare him, trying to be the alpha even now. Derek is pushing him. But Stiles isn’t a wolf, he isn’t one of Derek’s pack. Stiles has always had a habit of pushing back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss with a Fist

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill from tumblr. (sitdowngreenburg.tumblr.com)
> 
> Prompt: Derek's kiss is like a kick in the teeth. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own teen wolf and this is just for funnsises. Title is borrowed from the Florence and the Machine song Kiss with a Fist. It's a great song and you should all go listen to it right now. 
> 
> Unbetaed but I think I managed to catch my mistakes. If you see any errors, feel free to let me know.

            Derek’s kiss is like a kick in the teeth. Hard, punishing, bordering on animal. And Stiles hates it and loves it at the same time. He hates it because kissing this asshole should _not_ feel this good; he loves it because Derek is trying to conquer him, trying to scare him, trying to be the alpha even now. Derek is pushing him. But Stiles isn’t a wolf, he isn’t one of Derek’s pack. Stiles has always had a habit of pushing back.

            It started out like so many of their encounters, with snark and general hatefulness and barely veiled threats. Scott(well, Isaac to if Stiles is gonna be completely honest) is their common denominator. A fellow friend and a fellow wolf. But one person between them does not a friendship make. Still, somewhere  along the way those threats turned into innuendoes and it became a game to see who would back down first. Neither of them had ever been very good at backing down. Because before either of them seemed to register what was happening, Derek had Stiles up against the wall, the red flashing in his eyes, then he was kissing Stiles like he wanted to devour him, like he wanted to eat him alive.

            Which Stiles was more than a little okay with because some part of him has always wanted to be roughed up like this, ever since he realized he was just as into dudes as he was into girls. There is something raw about it, something animal that makes Stiles heart pound in his chest, raises the hairs on the back of his neck, and sends all his blood and capacity for logical thought straight south. It’s a game, a back and forth play for power and it’s hotter than hell. Derek is trying to dominate him on the most basic level, trying to make him _want_ to give in. Stiles has other plans; he may not be a wolf, but that doesn’t mean he’s got no teeth, doesn’t mean he won’t bite back.

So when Derek growls against Stiles mouth, uses his wider frame to pin the younger man against the brick, Stiles has no qualms about the bruising grip he gets on Derek, one wide hand in the alpha’s hair, the other on his hip. Derek seems a little taken aback by that, pulls back just a fraction of an inch, slows down for just a second. Stiles catches it and he’s there, filling in the space between them. He smiles against Derek’s mouth, pushes his tongue between those smug lips, tasting the wolf. His hand slides bravely to Derek’s ass, something Stiles has honestly always wanted to get his hands on, even when his feelings towards Derek ran much closer to “let him die” than  “eh just him bleed a little”.  

            Derek shifts, like he’s going to pull away, like he’s going try and take back his dominance, but Stiles is having none of it. He spreads his knees just a little, enough the he boxes Derek body, and pulls the Alpha closer by his belt loops, until their hips are pressed flush against each other. Stiles has watched enough gay porn to know it doesn’t take much movement to start building that oh so amazing friction between them.

            Derek makes a noise, not quite a growl and not quite a yelp and he catches his weight on his forearm, where it’s pressed against the wall to one side of Stiles’ head. The other reaches for Stiles, creeps up beneath the hem of his shirt, gets a grip on the curve of his hip and holds tight. Claws bite into his skin and he gasps, breaking the kiss, because, fuck are those things sharp.

            But Derek doesn’t jump on Stiles again, the way the teen was sure he would. No, the wolf seems to be focusing the whole of his being on breathing, his forehead resting on Stile’s temple, his eye squeezed shut. His breath is warm, shuttering on Stiles’s skin when he intakes and the younger man smiles, letting his hand trail slowly down to the base of Derek’s skull, holding tight, rolling his hips a little harder than before.

            “Stiles,” Derek huffs and there is a warning growl in his voice.

 Some small part of Stiles is pretty sure this isn’t all the bright an idea, but that part of him is jumped on, bound, gagged, and drug off stage by the growing discomfort in his pants and the hard the outline of Derek’s erection against his hip. Never more in his life has Stiles wanted to undo someone they way he wants to undo Derek right now, wants to bite down and open the alpha up, wants to peel away all those layers of surly arrogance and see Derek Hale come completely and utterly unglued. He has no idea how he’s going to do it, but he knows that he can and that turns him on more that anything.

Stiles’s hand moves of it’s own accord, moving from the back of the other man’s head to his throat, fingers closing tight on Derek’s jaw, forcing his gaze. Derek’s lips curl back over his teeth and he growls, Stiles can feel it under his palm. But the hard scratch of stumble against his skin is too good to care and Stiles never really did know when to stop pocking a hornets nest. So he smiles in response, almost cocky, but more surprised that this is actually happening.

“God, you want me so bad, don’t you,” he almost laughs, canting his hips, changing the angle of their bodies just enough to make Derek’s Adams apple slid beneath his palm in the most satisfying way.

Because Stiles has always been that guy. Just some goofy-ass kid who has no idea what it’s like to be dominate, to be 110% in control of his own body let alone someone else’s, like his right now. Derek, alpha, wolf since birth, king of intimidation and  power games, isn’t bending under Stiles will, bending _to_ it. And if that isn’t the hottest thing Stiles has ever seen, he doesn’t know what is.

He lets his hand move south, across the wide expanse of Derek’s chest, savoring how hard the muscle is. Though nearly the same height, Derek must have at least fifty pounds of the teen, just from sheer bulk. But Stiles has bigger fish to fry and he presses his lips to Derek’s jugular as his fingers find the button of the alpha’s jeans.

His slips his hand inside before he loses his nerve. Tension or no, Stiles knows that Derek is legs, that he hooked up with the likes of Kate Argent. Not that Stiles considers himself bad looking, but he knows he’s a lanky 17 year old virgin who’s never actually _done_ this kind of thing before(though he’s spent more hours that he can count fantasizing about it.) In the face of manhandling Derek Hale’s junk, that’s a pretty daunting thought. So he goes for it, and hopes for the best.

Derek doesn’t seem to mind.

            His arm wraps around Stiles waist and he kisses Stiles again, but there is a desperate edge to it now. He’s not dominating now, he’s begging, opening his mouth to the slightest insistence of Stile’s tongue, whining against Stiles skin when those clever fingers wrap around his cock.

Stiles works Derek slow and tight in his fist, whispering whatever dirty things he can think of into the shell of Derek’s ear. The Alpha drops his head into the curve of Stiles’ shoulder, hips rocking to the rhythm that the young human sets. . He presses a thigh between Stiles’ knees to keep himself standing, but it also gives Stiles a source of sweet friction for his own aching need. Because by the time Derek’s spine starts to stiffen and his claws cut Stiles flesh again, the teen is pretty sure he is going to lose it in his pants.

He forces a deep breath, bits lightly at the Alpha’s jaw, his throat, the curve of his shoulder. The Derek jerks, groaning loud and lewd against Stiles’s shoulder, his cum hot against Stiles skin.

Yep, _definitely_ gonna lose it in his pants.

Derek is moving in his grip. Stiles wants to snatch him back, protest that he’s not done yet, that Derek doesn’t just get off and leave him hanging. But it hits him after a moment that Derek isn’t moving away, he’s moving down. He’s sliding to his knees, pushing Stiles’ shirt up, trailing his lips, _his teeth,_ along the curve of Stiles ribs. Stiles heart picks up, and not just from lust, because there is something very unnerving about seeing a totally blissed out werewolf running his claws so lightly over the muscles that protect the majority of you organs. Muscles he could shred through in seconds.

But the claws disappear as Derek reaches for Stiles’ fly, stilling the moment of panic. Derek smiles against his skin, kisses the curve of his hip and Stiles is cursing him under his breath. Because Derek has been playing the game all along. He was letting Stiles win. And now he’s taking his prize.

Derek works the teen out of his jeans, out of his boxers, until both around his thighs and his cock feels impossibly hot in the coolness of the apartment. He finds purchase in the fines hairs at the base of Derek’s neck and whines. He is aching and they both know it won’t take much to finish this.  Still, Derek draws it out, tongues his navel with a hand wrapped loosely around his shaft.

“You bastard,” pants, that dark stubble scratching his skin in just the right way.

All he gets is a snort of laughter and he wants to punch Derek in the face again.

The Derek moves, leaning lower, taking Stiles into his mouth. And Stiles is gone the minute he hits the back of Derek’s through. Three sheets and gone. Part of him wants to be embarrassed; first blow job or not, that was quick. But the greater part of him doesn’t have a fuck to give. It’s taking all his energy to keep his weak knees under him.

He works his hand lazily through Derek’s hair and the wolf doesn’t seem to mind, tracking kisses hard, biting kisses, the kind that will leave marks tomorrow, across his abdomen, putting everything back in it’s proper place.

They part reluctantly, trying to arrange their individual persons into some form of decency.  And for a moment Stiles isn’t sure this was a good idea, isn’t sure were his head was during all that, thinks maybe he god carried away.

Until he turns to leave, and Derek catches his wrist, pulling him close with that shitty, pompous smile of his.

            “Next time you going to let me fuck you?” he growls.

            That curls a smile on the teen’s own lips as he pulls from the easy grip.

            “Next time I’ll let you beg me to let you fuck me.”

            He turns to leave, praying to god that he can play it cool until next time comes along.


End file.
